


One night

by Toruviel



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Drugged Sex, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, I don't know how else to warn you, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 11:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20045335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toruviel/pseuds/Toruviel
Summary: After the battle of New York, after the sacrifice and the relief and the shawarma, there was a party. It was Tony's idea, of course. One night to rest and relax, one night to drink and dance and drink some more. One night to connect.Steve was going to regret that night for the rest of his life.





	One night

**Author's Note:**

> MIND THE TAGS! And please, never, ever do anything like that, to anyone, for any reason.
> 
> One day I decided to try my hand at writing some smut, but it's me, so I had to choose something difficult. I don't believe that the situation described would ever truly happen in the MCU universe, but exploring that headspace was an interesting challenge. So here we are, my first ever smut piece. Enjoy.

Steve didn’t mean to do this.

It happened after the invasion in NY, after the fight and the atomic bomb and the shawarma. Once they had secured Loki for the foreseeable future, had gone through the debrief, the press release, the medical examination…

It happened after the party.

Because, with Tony Stark on the team, _of course_ there was a party, with loud music and dancing lights and alcohol. Really extraordinary amounts of alcohol, if anyone asked Steve.

“Relax, Cap,” Tony had said, resting a warm hand on his shoulder. “We just saved the world. We deserve a break.”

“You did good,” he agreed because he believed in praise where praise was due. “But there were so many casualties, and so much could still go wrong-“

“And there are other people around to handle it,” Tony interrupted, putting a tumbler full of whiskey in his hand. “Emergency services, national guard, SHIELD agents, Santa’s little elves. People trained to deal with this shit. We did our part, we deserve a party. The most fantastic, the most exclusive party ever-“

“I don’t really-“

“Oh, come on, Cap. One night. The team deserves some R and R, a chance to unwind. Even _you_ must let your hair down from time to time, so shut up, take a drink and enjoy yourself. One night of fun won’t kill you.”

Sometimes, there was just no point arguing with Tony, he was coming to realise.

And the party had been fun. They mostly sat and drank, too exhausted to dance, but as they drank they also talked, really talked, no arguments or trying to up one another- well, not _much_.

Steve sat a bit away, a drink in his hand, just the one. He couldn’t get drunk anyway, so all that good alcohol would just be wasted on him. He watched others relax, bit by bit, watched Natasha stop checking exit points every few minutes and Bruce’s shoulders slowly lower. He kept half an eye on Clint, who seemed determined to occupy every high point in the cavernous living room, and there were quite a few of these, really, what did Tony need all that space _for_? As the night wore on, and Thor shared tales of valour and bravery of his shield brothers, and others joined with stories of their own… Steve sat back and slowly let himself relax.

“Whoa, Stark! Watch where you’re going, you git!”

Steve’s eyes snapped to Clint, perched at the minibar, and Tony, resting against it.

“Wash your mouth with soap and sulphur, you philistine, you don’t recognise the choreographic genius when he graces you with his presence,” Tony was saying, every syllable perfectly pronounced in that posh New York accent of his, but the way he was leaning on the bar was decidedly tipsy.

“I rego- reco- I know a pissed git when I see one,” Clint muttered, stealing one of the remaining bottles and sliding away. Tony tried to stop him and overbalanced, almost falling over.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Steve said, coming over and gently taking Tony under the elbow.

“Nah, I’m fine,” Tony said, blinking up at him. “Fine as houses, fine as the financial market, fine as-“

“Yes, I can see. And that’s why you can’t stand straight.”

“’M fine,” Tony insisted, even as Steve gently steered him towards the elevator and, hopefully, his bedroom. “I can drink _way_ more than this. Must be the pills they gave me.”

“Pills?” Steve asked sharply, turning Tony towards him. “What pills?”

Tony swayed closer, his forehead gently bumping against Steve’s chest.

“Painkillers,” he muttered. “I think. I wasn’t listening. Isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Jesus, Tony. You can’t drink after taking medication, it dangerous and-“

“’ Course I can, I just did,” Tony patted him on the shoulder, slow and uncoordinated.

Steve sighed.

“Come on, it’s bed-time for you,” he muttered, finally getting them into the elevator. “Which floor?”

Tony didn’t answer, warm and heavy against his chest.

“Tony?”

“Sir’s bedroom is on the top floor,” a voice from- from _somewhere_ said. British and male and not anyone Steve had spoken with before. “If you’ll allow me, Captain.”

The elevator rose smoothly.

“Thank you?” Steve tried, looking around the empty cabin.

“You are most welcome, Captain.”

Talking elevators. Huh.

The doors opened with the quietest swish.

“Through the den and to the left,” the same voice said. “I hesitate to ask, but I believe that Sir could use someone to monitor his state, and as I do not have access to the bedrooms…”

Steve blinked.

“You don’t?”

“Miss Potts expressed concerns regarding privacy.”

“Ah. Well, yes, I mean, of course, I won’t-“ Steve shook his head a little. “Sure, I’ll keep an eye on him tonight.”

“You have my gratitude, Captain.”

He had the gratitude of the talking tower. The 21st century was weird. Or maybe it was just _Tony’s _tower.

Speaking of which. Tony had definitely drifted off to sleep, leaning against his chest, his breath warm against his throat. It was a work of a moment to change his hold and lift him up, so much smaller without his armoured suit. Through the den, a long _way_ through the den, all open space and windows, seriously- To the left, where doors opened for him on their own.

Into Tony’s bedroom.

The room was enormous, of course, all rich, dark colours and muted lights. The bed was huge and _oval_, smack in the middle of the room, the sheets gleaming smoothly, probably worth more than his yearly pay.

He shook his head and gently laid Tony down.

He started on the left shoe, sighing to himself, just a bit. How was this his life? Always the one to keep his head, to put his unit mates to bunks, always the responsible one. The right shoe. Always the one to come up with a plan, to think of the bigger picture. Socks, belt, trousers. Tony moved but didn’t wake up, probably knocked out by the combination of drugs and booze, a totally irresponsible move, and probably something Steve should have expected, all things considered. Shirt and undershirt-

Oh.

There was a star in Tony’s chest.

Steve blinked and almost laughed at himself. The arch reactor. He had read about it in Tony’s file, of course, but the thing in the picture had looked dark and dirty, surrounded by bandages and a mass of scars, red and raised against a thin chest. This one…

He touched it softly.

This one was bright and sleek, a cold blue light casting strange shadows around them. It was cool to the touch, hard and unyielding, undeniably _other_. It vibrated under his fingers, just the tiniest bit, probably too faintly for a normal human to notice. Did Tony notice? Could he feel its pulse in his chest?

The scars around the arch reactor were white and smooth, long healed. No hair on them, but then Tony didn’t have much hair, his chest smooth and well-defined-

His fingers grazed a nipple, pebbled from the cold, and Tony sighed, long and low.

Steve froze. He realised he was sitting on the bed, leaning over Tony, over _almost naked_ Tony, and- and petting his chest. He snatched his hand away, swallowing heavily.

Tony sighed again and moved in his sleep, just a bit, stretching, turning slightly on one side. Towards Steve. Which didn’t mean anything, obviously. Steve was here just to watch and make sure Tony was alright. He was not supposed to- to stare. Or to touch. That would be just wrong. Not that there was anything wrong with touching another fella, he understood that, and people found comfort where they could, in the war, but he wasn’t-

Tony grumbled and shifted again, rolling onto his side, a bit further, one leg rising at the knee, leaving him lying half on his stomach, one arm flung up, the other curled close. He looked different like that, without his sharp suits and sharper words. He looked- warm. Human.

Steve swallowed.

Tony’s skin _was_ warm, he discovered a moment later. Warm and a darker shade than his own, smooth. Alive. His fingers glided down the arm, touched a fine-boned wrist, ghosted over the long, strong fingers. There were callouses on Tony’s palm, small scars, from cuts and nicks and burns, so at odds with his _genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist _exterior.

Tony’s finger twitched and Steve froze, eyes flying to his face, to- to his closed eyes. He was still asleep.

Steve took a deep breath and gently released Tony’s hand. He had to stop. Tony was- interesting, and holding hands was hardly scandalous, even in his times, but- He had to stop.

Only he didn’t want to.

His eyes were drawn back to Tony, to his olive skin and soft hair. He smelled of some exotic body wash, nothing like the army issued grey soap, nothing like the stale air of the Brooklyn apartment. Steve leaned closer and breathed him in.

When was the last time he was so close to another human being? In the last century, he was sure, before the world stopped making sense, before the mission and the cosmic cube and the snow and the _ice_, God, the ice-

His lips touched the warm shoulder, moved slowly across soft skin and defined muscle. He could feel the fine hairs on Tony’s arm against his lips. He kissed down Tony’s shoulder, his back. His pulse thundered in his ears.

Tony sighed and shifted, just slightly, just enough to give Steve more back to kiss, to explore. He touched gently, carefully, the pads of his fingers feather-light. Up the defined spine, and Tony really needed to eat more, up to his neck, into the mess of his hair, the stands thick and cool between his fingers. Just long enough to grasp, if he wanted to.

A trembling sigh escaped him. To touch, to grasp, to truly _connect_ with another person… he kissed Tony’s shoulder blade, tasted the skin with his tongue. Warm, slightly salty. He breathed out and gloried in the goosebumps his breath raised.

He moved closer, kicking off his shoes and settling further on the bed, kneeling on it, against Tony’s hip, over him. His hands moved slowly lover, over the bruised sides, careful, Tony could be suffering from bruised ribs, no _wonder_ he needed pain medication, the arrogant, brave fool… Steve leaned closer still and carefully kissed one of the bruises, let his lips linger against the damaged skin.

Tony sighed, low and long. He had to like that. In whatever dream he was, he had to enjoy Steve’s attention, his reverent exploration.

Steve kissed back towards the centre of his back, let himself taste the firm muscle there. So warm, so pliant. His hand drifted down, to the small of Tony’s back, to the silky boxers. He slipped one finger under, between the soft material and the warm skin. God, so warm. He had to close his eyes and take a deep breath. The air tasted of Tony.

Oh, God. One night, Tony had said, one night to rest. Didn’t he deserve that as well? For all the people and things he had lost, didn’t he deserve this one good thing?

His hand slipped under the material, along the shapely bottom, always so well defined by Tony’s formal suits. It fit his palm just right, filled it perfectly. As if Tony was made for him.

Slowly, carefully, he eased Tony’s boxers down, over his bottom and down his legs, completely off. That left Tony lying before him on his stomach, legs slightly parted, nude and warm and welcoming.

He hurriedly took off his own clothes, tugging the shirt over his head, leaving everything in a pile on the floor. No time for folding it down, no time to stop and _think_, not when Tony was waiting for him.

He kneeled over him again and lowered himself carefully, keeping most of his weight on his hands, not pinning, just- _oh_, just touching. Skin on skin, everywhere. His head swam with it, his breath speeding, the air getting warmer between them, damper from his breath. _Oh, God._

Tony sighed under him and he felt it against his own chest, felt Tony’s back move slightly with each breath. Expanding, contracting, back and forth, just a tiny movement, but it sent electrical sparks down his spine, all the way to his toes. Back and forth, under him, warm and alive. Back and forth. His nose was buried in Tony’s hair, his mouth found his ear, the delicate curve of it, the dark space behind.

Tony moaned and shifted, legs parting just a little. Steve’s hips jerked, his- oh, God, yes, his erection fitting between them, against the curve of Tony’s bottom. Oh, oh _yes_, just like that-

Steve’s hips jerked again, just a bit closer, just a bit _in-_ Oh. Again, yes, again and- He was moaning now, small noises he couldn’t stop, his hands clenched against the bedding. He had to be careful, couldn’t be too loud, couldn’t risk waking Tony- Tony- Oh God, _Tony-_

His hips were rolling smoothly now, in and out, the bed creaking just a bit, in and out, against Tony’s backside, against the curve and the _heat_ and, oh my God, what would he be like _inside_, he’d be hot, wouldn’t he, all hot and soft and _tight_, oh- Yes, _oh yes,_ please, the next time-

Oh, _yes._

He kept his eyes closed, his teeth gritted against a shout, mouth pressed to Tony’s skin. Oh, just like that, just- _oh,_ yes. _Yes._

Finally, after aeons, he sagged against Tony, spent and relaxed and _warm._ He slipped a bit to the side, one leg still thrown over Tony’s slim hips, against the wetness he left there. He kissed anywhere he could reach, the shoulder, the knobby spine, the proud neck. Oh, Tony…

He stretched and sighed, eyes slowly closing, a stupid half-smile lingering on his lips. That was… He nuzzled the luxurious strands of hair, breathed in the smell of shampoo and exotic body wash and sex. _They_ did that. He stretched again, one hand rising, his fingers twining with Tony’s, squeezing gently.

Tony didn’t squeeze back.

Steve’s eyes flew open. Oh.

_Of course_ Tony didn’t squeeze back. How could he? How could he do _anything_, when he was still- When Steve had- he had-

…Oh God.


End file.
